


Homecoming

by nevercomestheday



Category: Chris Farley - Fandom, David Spade - Fandom, Saturday Night Live RPF, Sparley - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Drug Use, Love, M/M, References to Drugs, Rehabilitation, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevercomestheday/pseuds/nevercomestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today's the day David has been waiting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

David felt a shiver run up his spine. He looked at the calendar, noting the cliché little x's he'd marked the past month with. Today's date was circled in bright red ink. Though he'd made a little smiley face in today's square, he felt more nervous than happy. The knot in his stomach tightened as he looked at the clock. Angry red figures flashed 12:15PM.

He thought about the last time he saw Chris. It was about a month ago, in their office. He'd found those little baggies in Chris's desk; even now he couldn't be sure if they were cocaine or heroin or what. He remembered the night before that, sitting in Chris's lap on their couch during a particularly late writer's night. He remembered finally telling Chris how he felt, breaking the chains he'd held himself in for nearly two years. He thought back on how Chris reacted. How he'd reacted not with words, but with the most satisfying kiss of David's life. 

David soon felt the butterflies in his stomach turn to stinging bees. The blissful sweetness of that night with Chris went sour the next day when he found the drugs. Yes, he worried for the safety and health of the man he'd grown to love, but his biggest fear was that Chris's feelings were a by-product of some deep and complex high, some mix of drugs and booze and lack of sleep. David worried and worried from the day he found the drugs through the day they carted him off to some rehab facility far out in the middle of scenic nowhere, all the way to this moment now. 

He'd wanted so desperately to call all these weeks, but that biting fear always reeled him back in. Around the two week mark, he caught himself almost asking Lorne what the rehab place was called. He bit his tongue then, just as he did when he felt the same urge creep up in conversations with Adam. He wasn't even sure if Adam knew anything about where they sent Chris, but David wanted so desperately to just know what was happening, he was willing to ask anyone. 

At first, he wondered why Chris hadn't called. He spent the entire second week of nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He couldn't get his mind clear. It later occured to him that Chris probably wasn't allowed phone privileges. He then wondered why he didn't write. Granted, David didn't write either, but Chris knew the address to put on the envelope, and David did not. At the start of week three, David started pushing those thoughts away.

  
David looked at the clock again. 12:30. He walked from his bedroom to his bathroom and looked himself in the mirror. He hadn't noticed it until now, but he'd thinned out considerably. He looked as anxious as he felt. He lifted his t shirt up a bit and saw his hip bones stick out a bit more than usual, saw the little dips in his ribcage more clearly now than ever. He stepped on his little floor scale. The needle stopped just below the 130 mark. He'd lost seven pounds since Chris had left. He hadn't given the matter much thought until now, but he hadn't bought any food in at least two weeks, and hadn't eaten more than a meal and a half at best since the day after he found Chris's stash.  
He walked into the kitchen and picked up a banana. He held it in his hand and stared at it, eyes glazed over. He felt empty, but not so much hungry. He unpeeled it anyway and began to take bites, almost running on autopilot. He could've been eating a piece of Styrofoam; his mind was far from his present actions.   
  
The clock read 1:03PM. He threw the banana peel in the garbage can, inhaling deeply and filling a glass of water. He took a few sips, set the glass down, and looked out the window.   
The sun shone down onto the fresh layer of sparkly white snow that fell as David stood there. He sighed, turning away from the window to sit in his living room.  
  
The clock flashed 2:00PM while David watched CourtTV. He wasn't paying much attention to the case, but he did thank his lucky stars no one had reported Chris's drug possession to the police. From across the apartment, the phone rang. David felt his heart leap up into his throat. Could it be Chris?

"Hello?" David's voice trembled both with fear and hope.

"Hey man, it's Adam. You know, Farley's flight lands in twenty minutes... Just wanted to remind you. You gonna go see him at the airport? I thought about it, but I've got some work to do tonight. I'll catch him at work tomorrow."

"I, uh." David choked out his response. "I wanted to, yeah. I was planning to pick him up." 

"You'd better leave now, then. I'll talk to you later." If Adam noticed the anxiety in David's voice, he certainly didn't show it.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." David hung up the phone and wiped the sweat from his brow. He grabbed his coat from its place draped over the kitchen chair and slipped into his shoes.

 

David sat in the backseat of his cab silently. He watched the city pass by as they drove the few miles it was to JFK. As soon as they turned in to the airport, David piped up.  
"I just want to be dropped off here. No need to wait."   
The cab driver muttered some indiscernible phrase of agreement as he pulled them up to the curb. David paid quickly and stepped out of the taxi.

He pushed his way through the airport, only stopping to call Adam again from a payphone. David had forgotten which gate it was.  
Once he was reminded, he repeated the number under his breath, chanting it like a mantra. 

"Gate 25, gate 25, gate 25..." he mumbled. 

He stepped up to the gate, noticing the little huddle of family members and friends and wives and chauffeurs all waiting for their passengers. He wrung his hands as he moved into the empty place in the front. He overheard someone say the plane had just landed and that passengers were about to disembark. David forgot to breathe for a moment as he saw the doors open.

One by one, he saw passengers come out of the little hallway. A family here, a businessman there, a couple, single passengers, unaccompanied minors. Thirty people came out in a line, but none of them were Chris. 

David was beginning to think he'd misheard Adam when he heard a familiar laugh from just outside his view. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to bump into ya!" David's favorite voice in the world echoed down the hall.

Chris emerged from the doorway, unshaven and scruffy and having clearly skipped a haircut. He was wearing his glasses, which he hated, but David always loved. His jeans were creased a little bit, and his t-shirt was faded and wrinkled. The jacket he had draped over his forearm didn't match his outfit, and the rolling suitcase he pulled along was missing a wheel. 

David stood stunned for a moment, luckily before Chris could notice him. He was in awe. Chris had been through what Lorne called "the toughest rehab place short of prison," but he was still smiley and cheerful and just as beautiful as ever. As soon as he caught sight of David, the little smile on his face grew three times as wide.

"Davey!" Chris shouted, dropping his suitcase and jacket and running up to David. He picked him up in a bear hug and spun him around a few times. "Oh, Davey, I had no idea you were coming to pick me up! I'm so happy to see you!"

All of David's fears, all of his anxieties, all of his worries and assumptions and nightmares melted away in that moment. He couldn't help but smile.

"Of course I came to pick you up. You think I'd wait more time than I had to before I could see you?" David's voice trembled, but now from relief.

Chris gathered his things in one hand and wrapped the other arm around David. They walked to the baggage claim and got Chris's duffle bag, never more than a foot apart. They pushed through the crowd, Chris joking about how awful rehab was and how happy he was to be sober. They climbed into a cab and rode to Chris's apartment.

  
"So," David said as they put the bags down on Chris's living room floor, "you're telling me they give you drugs to get you off drugs?"

"Yeah, and man, were they terrible. Withdrawals suck."

"I can imagine." David couldn't stop thinking to ask about their last writer's night together.

"What is it? Something's bugging you." Chris picked up on his friend's insecurity immediately. He sat on the couch and pulled David down next to him, keeping his arm around him and pulling him close.

"Well... Remember the night before I... found your stuff?" David bit his lip, looking down at his feet. "That Tuesday night?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Were you, uh, you know..."

"What?"

"Were you high?"

"Yeah. I'm so sorry."

"No, it isn't- do you remember what happened though?" David held his breath.

"The whole night, yeah. I remember."

"And it wasn't- you weren't- it wasn't all because-" David was cut off by Chris's lips pushed once more against his. 

Chris pulled back, looking into David's eyes. David sighed, his shoulders dropping and his cheeks blushing scarlet. 

"Does that answer your question, Davey?"


End file.
